


Scar Tissue

by cornheck



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Apologies, Friendship, Nonbinary Character (Crona), they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 16:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14476524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornheck/pseuds/cornheck
Summary: As finals week comes to a close at the Academy, Soul and Crona get to have a rare exchange of words as friends... but Crona can't help re-hashing their past mistakes and, to say the least, the pair of them have a much-needed conversation about the healing of old wounds.





	Scar Tissue

Despite dreading their first true series of final exams, Crona’s relieved to have a particularly absorbative memory, lucky to recall all the material they’d been required to catch up on. Half a semester of attendance, a whole year of course content. The only true moment of discomfort came when they’d arrived at the essay portion.

Thankful it was easy enough to answer, however, their subtle eye-roll stemmed entirely from just how much writing it asked of them, hands already beginning to ache at the thought of scrawling out two pages on the origins, history, and importance of partnered and grouped soul resonance.

By the end of it all, their neck, wrist, back, and ribs ached from the strain of their typical, hunched posture—a habit they defaulted to, and Miss Marie silently wished they’d be more mindful of. It was a relief, at least to them, not to be the last one out of the lecture hall. Booklet turned in, they left the room as quietly as possible and lingered just outside, an air of hesitance settling upon them as they considered what to do now that, it seemed, everything was over with. No more class, no more lessons, just… students on break from their studies for the season.

“Kind of a breeze, wasn’t it?” Evans’ voice echoes in the arched hall and Crona’s shoulders jump, their frame still a tense and anxious mess.

“Oh,” they sigh, “I… I suppose so. It wasn’t… necessarily hard.” Crona answers, putting forth a vaguely forced smile. Smiling with the assumed purpose of making Soul comfortable with the interaction. A defense mechanism. “I-I guess, for a final, it was easier than I expected… everyone… made it sound like it’d be difficult.”

“If by everyone, you mean Black Star, then yeah,” Soul chuckles, “he doesn’t really do well on ‘em… bad test-taker.”

“Ah,” their facade falls just in time to be replaced by a much more genuine grin. Of the little they’d spent talking to Black Star, he certainly had confidence and skill enough to make up for the lost exam points given his performance in every other grading category. “That… makes sense.”

“Maka’s always the first one done when it comes to this stuff, she practically studies in her sleep. I’m convinced she must be practicing clairvoyance the way she burns through essay questions,” Soul laughs, turning to the meek teen who gives him a simple nod in response.

Determined not to let an impending awkward silence fall between them, Soul pipes up again, “So, are you staying here for break?”

“Ye-well, I… I think so,” they begin, stuttering, but encouraged to continue by a cock of Soul’s head; a social cue even they could read, “The professor… and Miss Marie asked if I’d like to come and stay with them for the time being.”

“Oh, huh, Stein and Marie? Nice,” his brows lift, clearly some varying degree of happy for the other. The optimism is short-lived, observing as Crona’s expression falls back to its characteristic expressionless gaze. “It seems like you've got a good thing going with those two.”

“I haven’t decided, yet, if I should accept the invitation,” they shift a bit where they stand.

  
Never having been the best at reassuring others, even his own meister, Soul kept his mouth shut to avoid stuttering while he searched for the right words a web of thoughts. “Y’know, I think it’s less of an invitation and more of an extended welcome.”

The other raises their head, taken aback, “Oh,” Crona mutters, in a poignant tone, “I… never considered something like that.”

Soul doesn’t leave much wiggle room for their mood to fall any further (nothing past a flat-lipped frown), “They’d probably love to have you, I bet they drive each other nuts sometimes all by themselves.” Though Evans won’t admit it, he knows it’s all too likely Stein might actually put some more effort into taking care of himself if he had someone else besides Marie to look after.

  
“I-I see,” they exhale with a nod, giving Soul a hint of affirmation that he’d done something to boost the kid’s confidence.

  
“I mean, it’s gotta be lonely n' not to mention _boring_ hanging here all summer... and the weather,” Soul nearly gasps, dramatizing it for added effect, “Oh, man, I don’t know how you can stay cooped up in that room of yours when it’s so nice out,” he grins. “But… meh. Different strokes. I can’t judge.”

His comments comfort them, an for a moment they forget how this came to be. The cathedral in Italy, Lady Medusa's wrath, and the black blood that infected him. Every moment they spent in the presence of Soul Evans builds always up to this; fixation on the memories of their first encounters and all the pain they've caused him, the pain they've caused he and Maka both. As quickly as Soul had lifted the swordsman’s spirits, they’d weighed themselves down once more. It seemed so normal, though. Soul couldn’t bring himself to feel any sense of accomplishment in the coaxing-out of Crona’s smile when the return of their self doubt was as certain as the sun in the sky. His own stubbornness couldn’t let his diminished self worth lie.

With another encouraging smile, rows of sharpened incisors appearing oddly charismatic, he opens his mouth to speak—but finds himself cut off before he can even squeeze a word in.

“Soul, I’m sorry,” the meister blurts. Having been pent-up for months, the apology comes forth without inhibition, rolling effortlessly off their tongue.

“Sorry…? For what?” Evans quirks a brow, chuckling. He adjusts his stance to face Crona with the whole of his body, maintaining his positive demeanor.

“F-for _what...?”_   They stammer, shaking their head. For all their remorse, they thought this would have been obvious. “For _everything_ , it’s… the first time we dueled, I was the enemy! I-I almost killed you, I-I... I really, really _hurt_ you,” they answer, still so sick with guild that even their confession of responsibility is tainted with frustration.

Soul seems stunned for a moment before harnessing his quick wit. “Hey, now, you can’t take all the credit like that, Ragnarok did most of the damage,” he smirked, tone still light, airy. Unfazed.

“How… how can you do this… say this like you’re amused...? I… I’ve hurt you, and… you’re okay with it?” Crona's brows knit into a furrow that disclosed their unease. “I don’t get it, how are you not resentful..? How… how do you not hate me for what I’ve done?”

Soul heaves a deep breath, trying not to seem exhausted or annoyed. Though, he was relieved the timid meister got it all off their chest. Any more delay and he was convinced they would’ve burst at the seams with the repressed guilt. “Us weapons students, you know, we have a bit of an inferiority complex, I’ve noticed,” he shrugs, Soul’s face adopting a much more neutral expression. "Even Maka's dad's got one. “But, you know, I got over it almost as soon as I healed up.”

“B-but… h- _how!?_ I..” they just sputter, lost as to what it meant to be forgiven just like that, as if at the snap of one’s fingers. “I-I don’t understand, h-how you… how you or Maka o-or any of the others can forgive me, even n-now… i-it doesn’t make sense,” they snivel, the rare bout of tears streaming down their cheeks.

Despite the discomfort; watching someone break down. Watching the meister. the meister Maka had exercised and saved, crying before him tugged at his heartstrings. He wished he saw this side of Crona more often. Willing to be vulnerable and open—at the mercy of their emotions. It’s something he envies in them. 

“Maka trusts you. It isn’t always easy, but I know as a weapon, and her partner, I have to have faith in her decisions,” Evans pauses to shove his hands in his pockets, stance relaxing with his posture. “I’m not gonna say it was immediate, but you know… I can’t blame you for most of what went down.”

They’re almost stupefied at the mention of Maka, allowing Soul all the silence he needs to finish his thoughts.

“I mean… it doesn’t work the same for everyone. Time doesn’t heal everyone’s wounds, but it sure as hell did wonders on mine,” The weapon’s smirk steadily returns. “Crona, you’re a good person. You’re not what your mom tried to make you become, and that weapon of yours doesn’t respect you half as much as he should.”

They gulp, corner of their lip quivering, not entirely content with the response and expecting the observation to arouse Ragnarok’s attention. But when a tense few seconds pass and no choice words come from the demon sword, Crona huffs, expending a defeated sigh. “You just… forgive me, then...?”

“Pssh, well, _yeah_ , I—” a quiet, strangled breath slipping from Crona’s lips cuts him off, their head lowered and obscured by a veil of choppy bangs, “no-no, no, _don’t…_ don’t cry, I… un..gh,” Soul groans.

“S-sorry,” they mutter another teary-eyed apology, “I-I’m just…”

“Not used to it?” He takes up his unaffected exterior once more, in spite of really feeling for them. He’s tempted to laugh—the bubbling feeling in his gut that always sent a snicker to the back of his throat in the most uncomfortable of conversations, thinking it was typical of them; typical and yet still it felt like a relief to hear them talk. Maybe it was the mere fact they were opening up, or perhaps it had something to do with hearing a long-overdue apology that Soul never thought he needed. “It’s… yeah. I know.”

Although he’s never been one for physical affection, Evans extends his arms a bit, hoping the meister would take a hint and accept a gentle hug as compensation. Their arms, in all their frailty, move with stiffness but meet the boy halfway as Soul finally initiates an embrace he’s felt like giving for weeks, but never had the guts to try offering.

His hands give the backs of their shoulders a gentle pat and a careful dragging rub, happily surprised the contact isn’t met with a flinch. They trust him, and it’s nice to finally know it… without having only his assumptions to go off.

The hall is empty, and while he tells himself the poor kid deserved it after all this time spent proving themself—proving their loyalty, Soul is admittedly grateful not to feel eyes on him; or that vaguely emasculating twinge he dreaded when he showed the softer facets of himself.

He doesn’t pull away until the swordsman’s small chest stops heaving with uneven breaths. Until they’ve stopped crying and regained their composure. It was the least he could do.  
Holding his indoctrinated peer by the shoulders, arm’s length away, Soul arched an eyebrow once more and tilted his head at the other, “You good?”

They nod, a soft smile gracing their tired features, “Yeah, I… I feel… better, I think.”

“Well. Good,” Soul presents them with a final, satisfied grin. “Now.. go have a good day… and be happy you don’t have anymore tests, unlike _this_ poor, unfortunate Soul,” he jests.   
“Right—I’d… better.. Go and find Miss Marie,” Crona stands apart from him, back straight. “I… I don’t know much about forgiveness, but… thank you, Soul.”

“Don’t mention it,” he blinks, “And, hey, Maka and I are always here in Death City for the break. You should stop by n’ see us more often now that classes are over.”

His warmth is contagious, keeping that shy smile of theirs on their lips just a few moments longer, “I-I’ll try.”

Soul merely accepts that with a nod of his head and walks casually past. Just one more hour stands between him and summer freedom, and now, for the first time he can recall, the threat of failure doesn’t loom so close overhead.

**Author's Note:**

> i've never gotten the opportunity to read the manga, so i truly.. have no idea if this happens or not, but i desperately wish soul and crona talked more and got to understand each other better as friends. i would genuinely kill for content wherein soul and crona resonate souls because they have a lot of healing to do between each other. 
> 
> anyway hmu on [my tumblr](http://www.cornheck.tumblr.com/) and spam me with asks, please, i will never shut up about soul eater and y'all are more than free to send me messages and asks abt it.


End file.
